


That Thief of Dreaming

by Metaneira



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metaneira/pseuds/Metaneira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the night before the Battle of Denerim, and Elissa Cousland can't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Thief of Dreaming

Elissa Cousland couldn't sleep, but not for the reasons one might expect.

Yes, it was the eve of the battle against the archdemon. She was about to lead her motley assortment of allies against a foe who had haunted her dreams ever since her Joining. She had learned only hours before that in order to slay the archdemon, a Grey Warden must perish — and that her odds of being the one on the other end of the killing blow were one in three. She had listened to Morrigan's offer to escape this fate, but even to save her own life — or his — she could not consent to a blood magic ritual with potentially devastating consequences.

Though all these issues pressed upon her mind, not one was the reason she couldn't sleep. She couldn't sleep because Alistair was holding her and refused to let go.

Elissa cursed herself again for this — ever since their awkward courtship moved from the campfire to her tent, she was unable to sleep within his embrace. She loved to be touched, no doubt about that. She adored when Alistair found some excuse to caress her: whether a none-too-stealthy kiss in the marketplace or the times he unfastened his gauntlet so he could lace his bare fingers in hers. Being in his arms at the end of each day should have been no different, except she could never fall asleep while he held her. He, on the other hand, had no trouble at all, and began lightly snoring minutes after cradling her against him. Most nights she waited until restlessness overtook her, and then lightly pushed him aside so she could sleep unencumbered. But not tonight.

She knew she should be savoring these stolen moments. Her mind raced, trying to memorize every little detail of him. The rhythm of his breath on her bare shoulder. The weight of his callused palm on top of her arm. The tickle of his chest hair against her back. The slight twitches of his muscles as he released all the tension and stress of the day in slumber. Every element was catalogued with a desperate fervor, for she knew this could very well be the last time they would be together.

And because of that, she could not bring herself to push him away just so that she might rest. She would not sleep tonight if that is what it meant to remain in his arms. At least tonight she would not dream.


End file.
